The Outsiders
by Barefoot XO
Summary: In a world of horrors and marvels, a group of extraordinary young people combine to make the world a better place.
1. Prologue: Last Minute Rescue

_**Prologue: Last Minute Rescue**_

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I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Outsiders. They belong to Joss Whedon and DC Comics respectively. I also don't own Darkwing Duck. It belongs to Walt Disney.

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 _September 20th 1998_

Diana Dormer winced expressively. It was not pain, per se, that caused her to do so. On the contrary, she couldn't feel anything below her waist at the moment. No, her wince had more to do with the position that she and Faith were currently in. Diana herself was currently laid out on a table, her legs were in pretty bad shape from the handiwork done to her thus far and the metal implements next to her strongly suggested that her future was going to be very painful and both shorter and longer than she might have liked. Shorter because Diana did not expect to survive this encounter, and longer because Diana suspected Kakistos intended to make this last.

As she glanced at her charge, Diana knew it was going to be worse for Faith. The girl was going to watch Diana tortured to death whilst being able to do nothing to save her. After that Diana did not want to imagine what would be happening to her slayer. All she knew is that it was likely to be even worse than what Diana would experience. Vampires didn't like slayers except for their blood.

Kakistos offered a death's head grin to the helpless watcher before picking up a nasty-looking curved knife. "Do you have anything to say before you start screaming, Watcher?"

Diana reached into her vast intellect for something suitably pithy and demeaning so that she could steal Kakistos' moment of triumph and perhaps even allow Faith a reason to smile when she remembered this soon-to-be grotesque scene. Nothing would come. She simply couldn't think of anything to say that would do the job right.

It was then that Diana saw some form of smoke bomb hit the ground and her world was covered in smoke. In the midst of the smoke, a fourth silhouette joined those of Faith, Kakistos and Trick. And then the voice came, "I am the terror that flaps in the night…"

Diana choked back a laugh at the line being spoken. Faith had forced her to watch enough American cartoons that she was well able to identify the line. Even funnier was the look on Mr. Trick's face as the smoke cleared. Apparently the vampire was familiar with it too. Finally he couldn't hold his peace any longer. "You've got to be kidding me."

The young man coming out of the cloud of smoke was a lithe specimen, his body encased in a light, red armour with various green accents (boots, gauntlets, belt and domino mask) and a bright yellow cape. A distinct R sigil was branded into the left upper chest of the lad's armour. Most notable was the assortment of weapons at the boy's belt, though. A pair of short, curved, hacking blades were supplemented by what looked like custom-made shruiken and a foot-long piece of metal pipe. A smirk appeared on the youth's face. "Yeah pal, I'm joking. And the joke's on _you_."

The pained gasp behind her caused Diana to spin her head just quick enough to see Trick dissolving into dust along with the arrow that protruded from his chest. It was impossible. The young man that had made the dramatic entrance hadn't even moved, nor was he carrying a bow or crossbow of any type. She turned back to double-check her analysis, only to note the smirking of the youth had increased. "Nice shot, Arsenal. I didn't even see you."

Another young man's voice echoed down from the rooftop. "Not a problem, Boss. I live to serve."

Kakistos' face was a picture of utter rage as he twisted back and forth, desperately trying to locate the hidden archer and still keep an eye on the new stranger and the helpless watcher and slayer. "You may have killed Trick with such a paltry attack, but I am Kakistos. My skin will not be pierced by such pathetic toys."

The masked youth grinned confidently at Kakistos. "Arsenal wouldn't waste an arrow on you, old timer. We have something special in mind for you."

The vampire glanced around in paranoia. "Who are you?"

The boy grinned, "I'm Robin," and then he pointed behind Kakistos. "And that's Cyborg."

The millenia-old vampire was not so old by accident. He was well able to tell bluff from truth, and the lad was telling the truth. Kakistos spun as fast as his vampiricly-augmented body could propel him, but it was not enough. He managed to get face-to-face with Cyborg only soon enough to get a face-full of a blast of Cyborg's brand new sonic cannon.

The augmented youth known as Cyborg offered a faint smile to Robin as they watched the twitching vampire attempt desperately to regain control of his body. Given fifteen minutes or so, Kakistos would have recovered fully. It was just too bad for him that these teens didn't plan on giving him the opportunity. "Looks like the first live test was a success, Rob."

The masked lad nodded. "Agreed Cy. Arsenal, get your butt down here. We're gonna be bugging out soon."

"Copy Boss."

With that, Robin walked over to Faith, drawing one of his blades. Seeing Faith shudder violently he paused. "Calm down, Slay Gal. I'm just gonna cut you free." Waiting for her to nod, Robin cut her loose and then held the weapon out to her, handle first.

Faith glanced at the weapon uncomprehendingly. "What's that for?"

Robin smirked. "It's a loan. I figure you have some aggression you need to work out. I'd rather you directed it at Kakistos then at my people."

The slayer grasped the offered blade and lunged, hacking fiercely at the prone monster's neck until it dusted. Finally she sighed in relief. The nightmare was over. She turned to find Robin's hand held out for his weapon. She returned it reluctantly. "Who are you people?"

Robin smirked. "I'm Robin. The guy with all the mechanical hardware is Cyborg." Robin gestured to another figure who was jogging up. The third guy was dressed similarly to Robin, except without the cape, the distinctive R brand and the domino mask. Instead of the mask, he wore a pair of tinted red glasses. His weapons appeared to be a longbow, a pistol crossbow and some sort of pistol. "The guy with all the archery toys is Arsenal." Robin slashed out with his knife, freeing Diana from the table. "We're the Outsiders."

Diana smiled faintly as Cyborg lifted her off the table. She had heard of the Outsiders. They were widely considered the scourge of Sunnydale's underbelly. "And how do you know so much about the slayer, Mr. Robin?"

Robin glanced meaningfully at Cyborg. The other youth nodded back at Robin. "All cameras in the area are jammed, Rob."

Robin untied his mask, trusting Arsenal to watch for more mundane watchers. "I'm Alexander Harris. You might have heard me from Rupert Giles."

Diana's jaw dropped. "How did you wind out here?"

The mask was back in place already. "It's a long story…"

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The next chapter will start my little tale at the beginning. As for the identities of Arsenal and Cyborg, I leave that for you to wonder. You may speculate all you like, but I'll only be revealing them on the plot's timeline. I'll only offer this much outright. Both Arsenal and Cyborg are males... ;)

Hope you enjoyed

 _Jasper_


	2. The Nexus Point

**Chapter I: The Nexus Point**

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I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or the Outsiders. They belong to Joss Whedon and DC Comics respectively.

AN1: Fair warning. The character of Wilson is not a remotely nice or well-adjusted individual. His opinions should always be taken with a grain of salt. They do not always reflect the truth of matters.

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 _My fate was written long ago. It is only when someone tried to force my fate to occur more quickly that I finally shattered the chains fate had forged for me. Only then was I truly free. ~ Robin_

 _September 5th, 1989  
Streets of Sunnydale_

Wilson watched the scene below him with a practiced eye. He didn't even have to glance at his watch to know that time was evaporating as quickly and inexorably as the morning dew. He had been waiting weeks for this critical point in time.

In reality, a person's life can be plotted through a series of critical nexus points. A nexus point being a critical juncture where a decision was made, or not, an action taken, or not, which shaped the events of that person's life in some significant way. For the boy whom Wilson was watching, a scrawny eight-year-old named Xander Harris, one such nexus point was fast approaching.

Wilson smiled as an older boy began mocking the young redhead who stood at Xander's side. Xander twitched, but he did nothing. It was only when the older boy pushed the girl, Willow Rosenberg, to the ground that Xander reacted. He threw a punch.

Wilson's smile broadened. How long he had awaited this day. From a very young age, Xander Harris had been subject to abuse, both verbal and physical. For all that time the boy would let it slide off of his back, sometimes even with a smile and a laugh. It was only Willow's appearance in his life that had made him strike back. The first change had occurred at age six, when Xander had hurled back insults at Cordelia Chase, who had been mocking Willow. Today, a physical attack against Willow completed the process that Wilson had long anticipated.

Wilson did not care for Willow. She was just a means to an end for him. Xander was so lacking in self-worth at this point in his life that it was uncertain if he would have ever struck back on his own behalf. Willow was Wilson's catalyst. As Xander's only friend, she was the only thing that might have provoked the desired response.

Wilson made his way down to the street level slowly. He was in no hurry. He wanted to let Xander get a few blows in. As Wilson got closer to Xander, the other boy, Blaisdell, gained the upper hand. Worse still, for Xander, Blaisdell's friends were now getting involved. Wilson nodded to himself. This was his moment. "What the hell is going on here?"

Blaisdell and his friends spun, classic deer-in-the-headlights expressions decorating their stupid faces. They analyzed the situation with painful slowness by Wilson's standards. Finally, the full danger to them of an angry-looking adult bearing down on them registered. Wilson could practically smell the fear of punishment wafting off the bully boys as they scattered to the four winds. Wilson ignored them. They had served his purpose.

Wilson knelt down next to the downed boy, pleased to see that he was rattled but not badly hurt, and extended his hand. Xander stared up at him, obviously slightly scared of the tall, one-eyed stranger, even if he was grateful for the timely intervention.

This was Wilson's moment. This was the time to nurture that spark of violent defiance he had seen in Xander's eyes. It needed to be done now, before the bullies and Harris Sr. extinguished it. Wilson opened his hand. "Are you ready to be strong?"

Xander stared into Wilson's eye uncomprehendingly, not fully understand what was really being offered. At long last the boy nodded cautiously, causing Wilson to exhale faintly in relief. Xander's cooperation was essential if he was to mold Xander into his image… his apprentice…

Wilson noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Willow finally hauling herself to her feet and carefully repressed the desire to sneer at her. It was far too early in his relationship with Xander to get him to discard such… dross. It was better to be polite. "Take your friend home, Xander. I'll be seeing you later."

The boy nodded and steadied his injured friend. "Please, Sir, what's your name?"

Wilson smiled benignly. "You may call me, Sensei, for now, Xander."

The boy nodded obediently and took his friend from the scene without questioning Wilson any further.

The one-eyed man allowed his fake smile to dissolve. Xander was ready to be strong. For his next trick, Wilson would deal with another lump of dross that Xander would be well shot of. Wilson doubted if Xander would even shed a tear after Wilson killed Tony Harris. Certainly Wilson wouldn't. He picked up the duffel which contained his high-powered sniper rifle. Hunting season was open and Wilson wanted to bag the all too common Yellow-Bellied Scumsucker. A sneer crossed his face. Yellow-Bellies were always in season…

 _Tony Harris was my father. His passing was both a relief and a tragedy. It was a relief, because the cycle of alcohol and anger was forever broken. It was a tragedy, because Tony Harris was denied any hope of ever becoming more than he was. I used to believe Sensei did what he did to save me. I know better now. Wilson was just another controlling monster who wanted to shape me without interference. ~ Robin_

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AN2: Yes, Sensei Wilson is Slade / Deathstroke

And here is August 3rd's contribution.

 _Jasper_


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